


Coming Home

by misura



Category: Krabat | The Satanic Mill - Otfried Preußler
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-04 09:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12768384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Krabat and the singer, after.





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Karmageddon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karmageddon/gifts).



> I really wanted to write you a treat, but I found it very hard to make up a history for the singer, so this turned into much more of a post-canon fluff piece than an exploration of her character. I hope you'll enjoy it!

_Krabat has been the Master for nearly three years now. With his own hands, in the first year, he has dug a grave for Merken. Some days, Krabat tells himself it was an act of kindness, to reunite Merken with Michal once more._

_Most days, he does not think of Michal or Merken at all. They are dead, after all, and there is no point in remembering the dead. Someone told him so once, and while Krabat may no longer recall that person's name or face or even the sound of their voice, he still remembers their words._

_In the second year, it was Juro. Krabat knows that he should perhaps have chosen Juro the first year, because Juro used to know him better than any of the other boys. But then, Juro was also his friend, like Jirko was the former Master's. It is never easy to deliver one's friends to their death, yet deliver Juro to his death, Krabat had to, and now that it is done, he can be glad of it._

_The mill is a much quieter place without Juro there, always fooling around, falling and spilling and stumbling and smiling. After Juro's death, the other boys at the mill have become much more silent._

_Krabat does not yet know whom he will choose this year. He thinks perhaps it should be Lobosch, who also was his friend. Or perhaps he will simply choose at random. Surely, that would be fair?_

_The knock on the door on New Year's Eve is unexpected - a visitor, on this day? Krabat walks out of the Black Room to see who might have come to the mill, wondering. Has he missed something?_

_He pulls out his knife. It was a gift, although he does not recall who from. Krabat sees the blade of the knife is clean. He feels better. If he were in any danger, the knife would be black._

_Krabat opens the door. It is a singer from Schwarzkollm. "I have come for my young man," she says._

_Krabat suddenly remembers that he knew another singer from Schwarzkollm once. He realizes that he has neither seen nor spoken to her in nearly three years, ever since he accepted the old Master's offer and became the new Master. He does not even remember her face. Is this her?_

_If he had known her name, he might have cast a spell on her, to make her forget everything Krabat has ever told him, and Juro, too. That would have been safer._

_As things are now, Krabat does not know if this singer is the same as the one he once met, on a long ago day. He does not know who of his pupils has betrayed him. Krabat tells himself that it does not matter - they will both be dead soon enough! Krabat is the Master, after all._

_The young men, his students, have gathered behind him. They are quiet. Krabat turns to look at them quickly, trying to see which one of them looks least surprised, which one of them is the singer's young man. They all look as surprised as Krabat._

_He turns back to the singer. "And who might your young man be, then?" Even if she is the one he spoke to, it makes no difference. Krabat is not as the old Master was, after all. He is different. The test will be different, too._

_The singer regards him calmly. All of a sudden, Krabat remembers a voice singing out on Easter morning:_

__Christ is risen,  
Christ is risen,  
Hallelujah, hallelujah! __

_"I am sure that you know him," says the singer. "His name is - "_

 

Krabat awakened, relieved to find that it had only been a dream. He remembered how shocked he had been, to realize that he had almost shot at Juro, with the golden button from the Marshal's coat.

He wondered where Juro was now, if Juro, wherever he was, still dreamt of the mill.

Only Lobosch had stayed. He was the miller now. People came to bring him sacks of grain and he ground it for them with the aid of his men, who had come from far away, and did not know that once, the mill had been a place where no-one wished to bring their grain, and a Black School.

All the others had gone. Nearly all of them had thanked Krabat and the singer, for freeing them from the Master, from cheerful Andrush to sour-faced Kito. Only Lyshko had complained to Krabat about how Krabat had taken away all their magic.

Krabat had said nothing. Let Lyshko complain all he wanted! Krabat was alive, and all of them were forever free from the Master: that was the most important thing, and worth celebrating.

As to Krabat's own magic, he knew that he would gladly never work a spell ever again if it meant none of his friends would have to die on New Year's Eve.

 

At first, Krabat had not been sure where to go. He only knew that he did not wish to stay so close to the place where he and the singer had almost lost their lives.

Krabat was surprised to find that, like Krabat himself, the singer was an orphan. However, unlike Krabat, the singer had two elder brothers, both of whom had gone off to war, hoping to cover themselves in glory and return rich, their chests full of medals.

For a while, Krabat considered becoming a soldier as well. To win fame and fortune sounded like a fine thing, indeed - and he thought that perhaps, if he were to return wearing a distinguished uniform, people might only think of him as Krabat the soldier, rather than Krabat who had been a student at a Black School.

"You might also die," said the singer.

Krabat had to agree that this was true. He also wanted to spend as much time as possible in the singer's company, to make up for the years in which he had not been able to. If he joined the army, though, that would be hard to do. Soldiers marched where the generals decided they should go.

Next, Krabat thought he might work at a mill. He had the skills, after all, and many mills were just as they appeared. It was a rare mill, indeed, that was also a Black School.

And if he were to end up working for a bad master, why, then he need only wait for Big Hat to show up and teach the miller a lesson. Krabat was sure that he would recognize Big Hat if he were to see him again. He might ask him all sorts of questions.

"You might not like his answers," said the singer.

Krabat was forced to agree with her again. What if Big Hat told him he was just like the Master? That Big Hat, too, had gained his powers by teaching young men how to do magic, choosing one of them to die each year? What would Krabat do then?

Krabat was only an ordinary young man now. He no longer had his spells, or the ability to transform into whatsoever he wished. Big Hat might turn Krabat into a chicken and himself into a fox, and kill him as easy as you please.

True, in the stories, Big Hat only ever looked out for the miller's men, but if Krabat confronted him, it might be a different story entirely.

Krabat had never before felt so uncertain about his future. It seemed to him that even as a beggar-boy he had had a clearer view of what his future might look like.

 

Eventually, Krabat decided to travel. He and the singer took a cart, and Lobosch invited them to pick two of the Master's horses.

Krabat was a little apprehensive - what if the Master's horses were not horses at all, but young men stuck that way, because their Master had sent them on an errand and someone had forgotten to keep their halter? He would not wish to treat another person as he would a horse.

But Juro assured him that the horses were just as they appeared. Neither Krabat nor the singer asked Juro how he could say such a thing with such certainty.

Before they departed, there was a big feast. Then, they were off.

 

Eventually, Krabat and the singer reached a small town Krabat recognized and then, shortly after, a house which he recognized. It was the village where he had run away from, what felt now like many, many years ago.

When Krabat knocked on the familiar door, it opened almost immediately. The pastor's wife was standing in the door opening.

"Welcome!" she said. "You must be the singer from Schwarzkollm we have heard so much about!"

"I am." The singer smiled and pointed at Krabat. "And this is my young man, Krabat."

"Welcome, Krabat!" said the pastor's wife. It was clear to Krabat that she did not for a moment recognize him as the boy who had run away because he did not wish to be good and silent and speak German all the time. "Please, come in, both of you. I will make you some tea."

Krabat followed the singer inside the pastor's house. The pastor, too, did not show any sign that he and Krabat had met before, shaking his hand and congratulating him on his good fortune in having become the young man of a young lady as accomplished and talented as the singer.

The singer smiled and blushed a little at that, looking pleased, although the pastor's wife scolded her husband for embarrassing their guests.

After serving her guests some cookies that were still fresh from the oven, the pastor's wife mentioned to the singer how the church's choir had long been looking for someone to teach the young men and women how to improve their singing - would the singer, perhaps, consider staying and taking up that position, even if it was only for a few weeks?

"Krabat, too, has a lovely singing voice," said the singer, and Krabat wondered how he could have forgotten. "I'm sure he'd like to help, too."

"Even better," said the pastor's wife. "The more, the merrier!"

 

And so Krabat and the singer settled down in the village where Krabat had been born, to teach young men and women how to sing. While he was hesitant at first, eventually Krabat became more confident in his new career. He did not only teach songs suitable for church, but also the ones he had learned at the mill, and even the ones he had made up himself.

And for many, many years, on Easter morning, voices would ring out from the village's church, singing:

_Christ is risen,_  
Christ is risen,  
hallelujah, hallelujah. 

and, hearing the song, Krabat would smile, knowing that he was no more capable of ever forgetting the singer's voice than he was of forgetting his own name.


End file.
